As Usual, England is lounging in his armchair, swirling a cup of tea in his hand.
*Knock* England Heaves himself out of his chair and walks to the door. He Opens it to find France looking at him. England proceeds to slam the door,
'Arthur! ARTHUR!' France knocks on the door almost viciously, but still makes it subtle.
'Bloody Hell…' England mumbles to himself. He walks back over to the door, and opens it.
'What is it Francis?'
'Ahh… Umm… I was just… passing by on the way to see Lara[1]… and I thought id stop by' France gives England a friendly look and rubs the back of his head, awkwardly. England slams the door again.
'I've not got time for your bloody jokes Francis!' France thinks to himself,
'Agh, Merde[2]! Why Lara's?! Mon Dieu, Luxembourg is no where near England!' He sighs.
'D'accord. Be a loner Then! France flicks his hair and begins to walk away. England sighs this time, but in a 'bloody hell' kind of way.
'Wait, Francis. I'm a gentleman and that was rude of me, so, would you like to come inside?' France turns around.
'Merci.' And he walks in. England follows him into the kitchen and clicks on the kettle.
'Would like some tea? Wine? Liquor?' France looks at the various pictures and nik-naks England has on his windowsills. –liquor? Does he mean that diluted shit that the british drink?-
'Eh… do you haveany French wine?' England looks at France but he is to busy looking at his stuff to give him any recognition.
'Maybe in the cellar. I'll check.'Several noises, like the sound of wine bottles being thrown everywhere, occur and eventually he comes out with an old looking bottle. England pours out a glass and hands it to France. It smells rich, and strong and he can't help but pour himself a glass to. France sits down on the sofa and a cloud of dust rises from the cheap leather. England sits down next to him, and thinks that he should make an effort of having a conversation.
'So, how have you been?' France looks kind of surprised at the question, but then sips his wine elegantly.
'Bien, merci. Hey, this wines actually pretty good,' he smiles 'and you?'
England looks sort of glum but answers the question.
'Fine,' he realizes that has a dull thing to say, but he sticks with that and chugs down half his glass. He already feels drunk. Even though Englands answer was plain, France still manages to smile and reply.
'Good.' England continues to throw down his drink, and manages to already be drunk.
'You know, Francis?' he finishes off his glass and slowly leans to get the bottle. 'I know it may not seem like that, but I think of you as a friend,' To France, this would be touching, if not the fact that England had just finished off a, quite large, glass of wine.
'That's nice, Arthur,' France reaches out to take the wine off of England, but he quickly reacts and tries to pull the bottle back.
'No! I'm not drunk… really! Just, one more glass. You know you're annoying as hell but you make bloody good wine!' France retaliates and yanks at the bottle. 'You're very tipsy at the least! Come on, give the wine to me. It came from my home anyway!' England at this point is pulling a hard as he can, but when France finishes his sentence he yells,
'Fine!' And he releases the bottle making it fling forward and land on the lap of Francis, who is now covered in fine, French wine.
'Merde! You! Oh… it doesn't matter,'
'I'm sorry Francis, that was immature of me. I'll help you clean up,' France gets up to examine the stains.
'Non, it's fine. Wait here while I go change,' France squelches to the stairs and, uncomfortably, shuffles up the stairs. A short while later France walks downstairs in a scruffy t shirt and slightly ripped jeans.
'Just for, monsieur, I stole your clothes,' England looks at him in an apologetic way, and walks up to him.
'There's no need for that attitude, Francis,' then he looks sincerely at him and says,
'But, I do apologise.' France smirks and plonks himself down on the sofa, with England doing the same.
'It was my best shirt. But I accept your apology.' England feels he has to say something at this point so he very brutishly (awkwardly) says,
'Well, you still look… great Francis,' France smiles but then it turns to a smirk and he proclaims,
'As always, Arthur,' Then he flicks his hair, and chuccles in a very French way. England can't help but laugh at the absurd Frenchman. France then stops laughing, and smiles.
'Arthur… was that the alcohol talking?' he continues to smile but Englands face turns to a more depressing scene.
'I don't know. Sometimes it's hard to tell…'
'I see,' France looks England up and down, then thinks –he has a nice body, despite his drinking habit…- England continues to look more depressed,
'I just…' he sighs and looks at France,
'I don't know. I feel I treat you badly. Even when you're trying to be nice…'
'Arthur…?' France looks slightly worried, England may have never said something like that to him. But he lets him continue.
'I just want to… apologise for my behavior towards you,' France looks surprised and reminds him of what he had told him.
'I thought you said that we were destined to hate each other.'
'I know. But that's no reason not to be descent,' France smiles, in a forgiving way. 'fair enough. I accept your apology, and in return, I give you mine,' then he smiles again.
'No, Francis. You've been fair. I've just been pretending to be a gentleman all this time.' France starts to get annoyed with the depressing, but gentle country.
'But you are and gentleman. We all have checkered pasts, and you have done well to get back on your feet after yours.' England smiles then looks at France,
'Thank you, Francis,' then France looks at England, smiles, and winks. England then thought to himself –he is very… smooth. Despite his past. He is almost, arousing- England then gets out a cigarette packet, gets two out, and hands one to France.
'Ah, Merci,' Then, he pulls out a lighter and lights it. England does the same, but when he takes a puff he coughs.
'I think you're better at this then me,' France laughs at the comment.
'well, I have more practice then you! I usually smoke after love-making, but, you know, I can make an exeption,' he winks at England again. England accidentaly looks aroused by Frances smooth character and physical features. This follows by him quickly turning away. He is used to shutting people out, and this was just another one of those times. France smirks, he of course knew that face. England had to make an excuse so he could be alone again, like he's used to.
'you should be getting to Lara,' France looks surprised,
'what's wrong? Don't you want me?' England turns around immediately.
'Wha…?' then France begins to lean closer to England. England does the same. Then, their lips touch.
[1] Lara is my friends' (who helped me write this) oc character, who is the country Luxembourg. Sorry if you think it's stupid to put an OC in a fannon fan-fiction, but she's the only one who can be HISTORICALLY ACURATLEY be in a relationship with France.
[2] shit :-3
There will be a second part to this :D don't even worry.